The Weakness of Melancholy
by Somber Joy
Summary: While depression is a powerful force, love always pierces the heart and creates a sense of joy. Dive into the emotional toils of a girl who has never experienced love and a certain Nott that has tangled himself into her heart. While neither wants to admit their weakness, both become subject to their emotions. Do opposites really attract? Sometimes. Or maybe it's fate with humor.


Like every day, Lore felt a storm coming on as she awoke into reality. While light was trying to pierce through her dusk colored curtains, she focused on the clouds looming above her. They were dark and dismal, ready to ruin her day and dampen her mood. Complementing the coming rain, thunder created a cacophony of cries that banged on her door. Wind thrashed and threatened to blow away her sanity. Lore knew that trying to rid the tears that never flowed down her cheeks was futile. Melancholy was a defining characteristic of her world. With a sigh, she pulled her crimson fleece blanket to the side and placed her feet upon the frigid floor. Of course, while the coldness should have pierced the warmth that had surrounded her, she was unfazed by it and made her way into the bathroom. Peering into the mirror, she saw a thick brown tangled mess of hair. Although her mother had hair that burned as bright as a scarlet flame, and her father's hair was that of a raven's, she was stuck with melted chocolate. While she knew she could change it and often did at a young age numerous times due to her metamorphic abilities, she felt the need to keep the color she was born with. Her eyes were no different except for a tinge of green which she always considered as symbolical of hope, but only when the light shone into them at a certain angle could the green brighten the brown. She could change the color of her eyes willingly as well, but again, her first day in the world dealt her these specific phenotypic traits and they made her who she was. Her lips were a bit chapped and a faded pink that resembled old painted porcelain. This is what she always awoke to and satisfaction never occurred to her as a good word defining how she felt about her appearance.

Lore's bathroom was a lackluster grey; a color she thought the center of her life would be painted if it was laid onto a canvas. Once upon a time it glowed a lantern's yellow but the happiness that caused such a light was long gone. Losing her mother was, of course, a great reason for her loss of joy, but truthfully, sadness was simply a part of her. She didn't understand why smiles were hard to come by nor why laughs sounded forceful and butterflies were a rarity in her abdominal region. She preferred silence over conversation and isolation over togetherness. Her family stopped asking her to, "Perk up!" and to "Smile!" after a while of getting nowhere with it. They just left her alone which caused her to continue on her journey down a path of desolation. She didn't mind, however. It was as if she was incapable of "feeling" which would explain why any emotion she did feel came to her like a spontaneous shock.

She felt such a shock when she first got the letter addressed to her from Hogwarts, a school of magic. Confusion. Doubtfulness. Denial. Shock. Anxiety. Hope. Joy. The order in which the emotions flowed through her. Magic? She never realized it existed! While she had quite a few occurrences in her childhood that were… bizarre per say, she couldn't believe it was real! Her first association the she could remember vividly with anything magical occurring, happened when she was eight years old. Her parents were arguing and the room was getting hotter by the second. She ran outside of the house into the backyard to escape the heat and to prevent the destructive exchange of words from corrupting her mind. Her parents fought often, and she realized running away seemed to do her ears justice and saved her eyes from watering. About a yard from the house stood the comforts of the forest. Sprinting towards her safe haven, she left everything behind. The nasty words spoken from the soft lips of her mother and the rough voice of her father. The shaking of the hands and points of conviction. The threats of abandonment and the shakes of violence. None of it could follow her into the depths of the tree line.

She ran into the trees until her chest heaved from exhaustion and her breathing stung her lungs. Collapsing into a clearing, she laid down onto a patch of grass that was scattered with baby's breath and dandelions. Her messy hair spread around her head while her eyes looked beyond the tree branches and leaves into the sky. It was as blue as her mother's eyes but didn't hold as much compassion as her mother's gaze did. It did hold a sense of freedom and escape, which Lore yearned to touch if only it was tangible and within reach. A bird flew overhead as if helping to detail her wish and taunt it simultaneously. It flew away, perhaps a metaphor for her freedom, but returned to perch on a branch overlooking where she was lying. While she could not see the bird's eyes, she imagined they were looking down upon her; feeling, perhaps, a sense of pity or maybe curiosity. The animal had no apparent reason to sit on that very branch and observe the lonely girl but it was there as if it had nothing else to do.

Lore wasn't sure when it was that she fell asleep on the grass, but she awoke to the moonlight kissing her eyelids and the stars gleaming in the dark sky. Rising into the night, she began walking back to her dungeon which was hopefully quiet and peaceful rather than loud with shouting and anger. Her legs felt somewhat wobbly, but her eyes didn't waver whatsoever when she saw what appeared to be glowing eyes in the bushes before her. She froze in her tracks as water would if an incoming cold front passed over. She didn't feel fear or any emotion related to it, but felt curious as she peered into the animal that was emerging from the shrubbery. It's fur was a boundless midnight sky and hung low and untrimmed. It's paws made immaculate imprints in the dirt that showed to be powerful and large. Larger than Lore's feet and hands by double the size. It's most interesting feature was the eyes that stared back at her which were the moon's silver. It's teeth weren't showing, and it appeared to be as curious as Lore was. She heard countless numbers of stories of Big Bad Wolves and the vicious nature they were capable of but this one held no such reputation.

"Hello," Lore released as she awaited the wolf to either devour her or run away. Instead, a rumbling, "Hi" erupted in her mind. Her heart began to beat to a rhythm surely death defying, but she could still feel life ubiquitous around her. The wolf spoke? No. It had to have been something else. Perhaps so much hope had built up inside of her she simply said the greeting herself and imagined it was the wolf. Yet why was the animal approaching her as if it already knew her aura? With a hesitant jerk, Lore reached out to pet the wolf, or maybe to determine whether reality was upon her or if she was stuck in a dream. She smiled when she felt the coarseness of the fur and the fact that the beast didn't trap her hand within it's jaw. It was as if they both had a special connection, spiritual and magical. As soon as the moment began, it disappeared. Within the trees, the harsh light of flashlights dashed before the pair. Before Lore could say goodbye, the wolf vanished and worried faces belonging to her mother and father appeared.

Her night was blurry after that besides the expected scolding and sobbing hugs, but that was the beginning of many magical occurrences. After that night, Lore had many events in which oddities occurred in various ways. Such as the day her hair turned from the dull brown she knew to a deep red velvet. The day she felt too lethargic to get out of bed and turn the lights on, then was stunned as she arose and all of the lights came on at once. (In the entire house at that.) Or the time when she went into the forest and one by one she was greeted with a diverse group of animals for no known reason. She had an affinity for creatures like no other and she didn't mind it. The letter from Hogwarts ensured her that the weird things that happened to her weren't out of reason. It was a relief to her parents as well who believed from time to time that she either had gifts from God or a terrible curse about her.

Her first moments into the magical world and Hogwarts were pleasant memories, but as she learned of her Muggleborn status and the devastating effects magic could engender, her happiness faded and were replaced by confusion. She made a few friends, but it was difficult since the stereotypical school bully still existed in the magical realm and her silent demeanor didn't make for good conversation starters. She would never be part of the popular nor wanted to be and would never join the well-known "Golden Trio" although they were kind and belonged to Gryffindor as did she. She was different and kept herself at a distance to avoid hurtful remarks aimed towards her and impossible obstacles she felt she would never overcome. Her sweetness shown as did her melancholy, but not as defining. Hogwarts offered her an incredible escape and gave her freedom she could conjure with magic, but nothing could rid her of her most devious enemy – herself.

There was a week left of summer vacation before she returned to Hogwarts for her fifth year. She kept in touch with her friend Nova who was always eager to return and was getting ready to meet her in Diagon Alley at the clock's strike of noon. Hopefully this year would be different and she could develop into someone more… noticeable. Or at least have a few more days where she didn't wake up feeling nonexistent. She loved magic and could be enveloped into her studies as much as Hermione Granger could. Maybe not that much, but she enjoyed learning about her kind's abilities. Nowadays, it was more difficult to read up on the powers of magic without thinking about the ominous side of it. Voldemort was a whispered name that evoked terror in everyone who knew of his inflicted horrors. His presence felt more prominent day by day.

Lore wished the time to go by faster so her mind wasn't plagued by memories of the darkness Voldemort brought with his uprising in the last year. Before she knew it however, noon came knocking at her door and Diagon Alley was beneath her feet by way of floo powder. She glanced around for Nova and smiled lightly when she saw the girl's silk blond hair clash with the rough cobblestone buildings surrounding them. Beside her was a boy who caught her off guard, a friend of the infamous Draco Malfoy. She believed his name was Theodore or maybe Blaise, but regardless, she shuddered as she looked at his raven hair from afar. What the hell was Nova doing with the likes of him?

Sighing, Lore quietly said to herself, "Well, this day can't get any worse." With heavy feet, she regretfully began walking towards the pair who were oblivious to her presence.


End file.
